


dont be a stranger

by jschlattwiththeglock



Series: mcyt one-shots for da homies [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, M/M, Party, dream has big dick energy, george is an introvert, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jschlattwiththeglock/pseuds/jschlattwiththeglock
Summary: Based on prompt:“My friend dragged me to a party and then abandoned me but you came up to me and we started talking and somehow I started talking about how I didn’t want to be here while you start smirking when my friend comes back and introduces you to me as the host of the party and I blush really hard because I’ve been ranting about how boring it was for 10 minutes”or just: george knows nobody at a party and dream just thinks hes cute
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: mcyt one-shots for da homies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041354
Comments: 6
Kudos: 368





	dont be a stranger

**Author's Note:**

> YOOOOOOOOO I DONT ACTUALLY SHIP THEM!! THEY ARE REAL PEOPLE AND THATS JUST WEIRDCHAMP!! THIS IS JUST BE BEING EMOTIONALLY STUNTED AND PROJECTING!!!!! IF THEY SAY THEY ARE EVER UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THIS KINDA STUFF, THIS WILL BE TAKEN DOWN FASTER THAN YOU WOULD RUN IF JSCHLATT PULLED OUT HIS GLOCK ON YOU!!! HE KEEPS THAT THANG STRAPPED!!

George had always hated parties.

Quackity knew it, Bad knew it, Wilbur knew it. So how did George find himself lost in a frat house on a Saturday night?

George stood with his back pressed against the wall, one hand covered by his pocket and the other gripping the plastic cup that had previously been given to him. He pushed the back of his head against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to figure out how he had been convinced to go to the party. 

“But George,” Quackity had said, nearly groveling at George’s feet. “It’s actually going to be really fun. And-and if you get bored, you can just leave! But you won’t! Because you’ll have lots of fun!” Quackity had gripped George’s hand tightly, pleading with him. George turned his head and looked to Wilbur for help. Wilbur, who seemingly cared not for George’s wishes, walked over, slinging an arm over George’s shoulders.

“Oh Gogy, why the long face? Big Q is right, this party will be great!” Wilbur had leaned into him, his face a little too close to George’s.

“Ugh fine. I’ll go,” George said, rolling his eyes while Quackity and Wilbur let out a cheer. He made a point of brushing Wilbur’s arm aside and pushing Quackity away. “But I’m not going to be happy about it. And we are not staying late.”

Wilbur brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “George you are so lame. But! You have agreed to join us this fine evening so I have no complaints.”

Quackity stood up, raising his arms to the sky. “YES! George is going to the party! Best day ever!”

The boys all laughed and George only complained a little when Bad arrived a few hours later to pick them up.

And so George found himself in the corner of the living room, against it like some kind of wallflower. He raised the cup to his lips, scanning the room in front of him for someone he might recognize. Quackity and Wilbur had left him nearly as soon as they walked in the door. George was a little angry that he was left behind, but he had Bad to keep him company. That was, until Bad’s friend Skeppy had arrived, almost immediately dragging Bad away.

George remembered the apologetic look Bad had shot him while being carted away by Skeppy, but George still couldn’t help but feel a little upset.

As George brought the cup down from his lips, eyes still scanning the crowd in front of him, he felt something bump against his shoulder. A bit of his drink sloshed over the side of his cup, hitting the ground with a soft drop. George’s eyes traced the unknown force up from where the liquid had dropped. 

First he saw a pair of white sneakers. They glowed nearly fluorescent in the dark atmosphere of the room. Whoever owned these shoes had kept the clean- or they were just new shoes. Next he saw the faint coloring of socks peeking out from the bottom of the stranger’s jeans. The base of the socks were blue, which lucky for George was one of the only colors he could actually see well. There was some kind of design on them, a smile, maybe? Not enough of the art was showing for George to guess before his eyes were moving up on their own accord. His eyes flitted quickly over the snug jeans and the baggy sweatshirt, George wondering how the man wasn’t dying to death of heat while George felt like he was melting. His gaze paused only slightly as it caught sight of the hands crossed against the man’s chest. George felt his breath hitch if only for a moment. Finally, George's eyes met another pair looking back at his with somewhat of a sparkle in them. A dusting of freckles seemed to blend in with the rest of the man’s features as all George could focus on was those eyes. And for real this time, George felt like he couldn’t breathe.

George watched the look in the man’s eyes turn into one of confusion and briefly saw his lips turn upwards. George blinked once, then once again, and felt his face grow red with embarrassment.

“Uh. Sorry. I-uh, was off in my own head.” George said with his eyes flickering around the man’s own head, refusing to make eye contact. “Did you need something?”

The man laughed with his whole body, his head thrown back even though George didn’t think what he said was really that funny.

“No,” The stranger said with a hint of that mesmerizing laugh still in his voice. “I was just wondering what you’re doing hidden away in this corner.”

George let out a little giggle, his face still red from before. His hand came up from his pocket to lightly scratch the back of his neck.

“Oh. I just don’t exactly want to be here right now.” George said sheepishly, his hand once again returning to the seclusion of his pocket.

The stranger furrowed his eyebrows, and George could feel how intensely the man’s eyes were on him.

“Really? Why?”

George let out a sign, shrugging, and took a small sip from his cup. He cringed a little at the taste, the bitterness being a little worse than he expected.

“I didn’t want to come in the first place. My friends just dragged me along. There's nothing really to do when you don’t know anyone so I’m standing here until my friends are ready to leave.”

“Did you try meeting new people?”

George scoffed. “I don’t know anything about these people. They could be killers or want to drug me or something. Besides, everyone here already knows each other.”

The stranger (if George could even keep calling him that, they’d been talking for a few minutes now, they were probably more like acquaintances) nodded and turned his head, facing back out into the crowd.

“Don’t you think I’m one of those strange people?”

George followed his gaze into the crowd, flicking his eyes across it with no rhyme or reason.

“No, I don’t think so. You seem... different.” George kept his eyes in the crowd even though he could feel the man’s energy focused on him.

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. Just. Different.”

George looked at the man, his eyes hooked on the others. The moment felt like it lasted for hours and George wasn’t entirely sure it was ever going to end until the man jutted back a little, shaking George out of his stupor. The no-longer-stranger quickly extended a hand.

“My name is Dream.”

George hesitated a moment before pulling his hand out of his pocket again and reaching for Dream’s hand.

“I’m George.”

The pair shook hands for a moment, small smiles gracing their faces. Like before, Dream was the one to break the tension. 

“Do you want a refill?” He said, pointing to the cup in George’s hand.

George quickly looked down to the drink and back up to Dream’s face.

“I actually was handed this and don’t know what it is but I’ll take something else.”

Dream smile grew and he turned toward the crowd.

“Follow me and I’ll mix you a drink.”

George nodded as Dream began to walk towards the kitchen. George followed behind closely, avoiding the moving bodies as best as he could. He stumbled through the confined hallway, trying not to lose Dream in the crowd. The constant bumps against him reminded him of the first bump that Dream gave him when their conversation first started. 

As they entered the kitchen, George could barely breathe. It felt like everyone at the party was crowded into one room. Dream stopped on the far side of the counter, looking down at the array of drinks set in front of him. George made his way to stand next to him, feeling like he made some form of physical contact with every person in the room. The air was thick and the sounds were too loud. George felt like he couldn’t even hear himself think. He turned to face Dream and saw his mouth moving but heard no words come out.

“What?” He said, his volume just below that of a yell.

Dream spoke again, but his words were still lost on George.

“I’m sorry, what?” George said again with a point to his ear. “I can’t hear you.”

Dream made an ‘oh’ shape with his mouth and nodded. Before George could process it, Dream had leaned forward and put his mouth directly next to George’s ear. His hand was pressed against George’s back, tugging him even closer. George closed his eyes and relaxed into the touch.

“I asked, what do you want me to make you.” Dream’s voice was hot and loud against George’s ear. George shivered and nearly forgot what Dream asked him. He opened his eyes to tilt his head up to Dream’s ear.

“I’m not sure. Whatever you think I’ll like.” George spoke loudly so that Dream could hear him over the noise. His voice felt harsh against their soft and quiet bubble.

Dream leaned away and George felt himself grow cold at the lack of heat. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and watched Dream ponder the bottles at the countertop in front of him. His hand reached out to hover over a blue bottle, before quickly darting to the left to grab a clear one. George had no clue what the bottles held but he was bewitched by Dream’s mesmerizing movements, picking up bottles and holding them like they weren’t made out of glass, pouring without even checking the amount being spilled into the cup. George felt like no time had passed at all before Dream held the cup out to him with a small smile on his face. George smiled back shyly and took the drink, quickly raising it to his mouth. He couldn’t quite place the taste, but it was sort of fruity. He brought the cup down to rest at mid-chest level. Dream looked at him in anticipation.

“So?” Dream said, raising an eyebrow at him.

George nodded and smiled. “It's good! I’m not a big fan of alcohol but this is good! It's nice!”

Dream’s smile grew and George felt like he was staring straight into the sun. Dream’s eyes crinkled and George thought he had died. Not unlike before, George felt as though they were in their own little bubble, away from the rest of the world. Much to George’s disappointment, the moment was broken by a rough shove to his back. George stumbled forward, his drink fumbling in his hands. Dream’s arms came up to steady him, his hands grabbing at George’s biceps, grounding him. Unfortunately, between the sudden push and the shock of Dream’s hands, George’s cup was unable to stay completely unaffected. About half of the cup spilled onto Dream’s white shoes.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry! Shit!” George said frantically, staring down at Dream’s once pristine shoes. “Fuck. I feel so awful.”

Dream’s hands were still on George. “Hey, it's fine! It's not your fault! I can just clean them or something.”

“No, your shoes were so nice and clean! And I spilled all my drink all over them!”

Dream released George and took the cup from his hands. He set it on the counter and, to George’s surprise, immediately grabbed both of George’s hands.

“It is actually fine.” Dream said, voice steady and persistent. “It does not matter.”

George’s eyes were wide as they made contact with Dream’s, the latter’s immediately softening. Another bump to George’s back broke the connection. At this point, George was starting to think that the world hated him.

George sighed. “I hate this party.”

Dream let out a small laugh at George’s misfortune and released only one of his hands.    
“Come on, let's go back to your corner. It's more quiet over there.”

George nodded and allowed himself to be pulled across the house by Dream. The walk back to the living room seemed more difficult than their earlier trek. The hallways seemed smaller, or maybe there were just more people. EIther way, George felt gross being rubbed against all these people.

When they reached their designated spot on the wall, Dream dropped George’s hand from his clutch. George missed his touch but tried not to show it. The two stood side by side, their backs resting leisurely against the wall, their eyes watching the crowd as a group of boys jumped up and down with the music. George thought he saw Quackity’s beanie-clad head bouncing among them, but it was gone before he could be sure. Dream and George stood in silence for a while, taking in the party around. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just a break in conversation. They watched the group knock into each other, pushing people over and just being a nuisance (in George’s opinion).

George shook his head. “Another reason why I hate parties.”

Dream tilted his head and smiled. “Well I mean, this one can’t be that bad.”

George looked at him and crossed his arms. “I’ve been hit like 7 times in the last 5 minutes. My friends left me, I didn’t want to be here in the first place! This one really isn’t very good.”

Dream paused, looking at George. “But you have me.”

George stilled for a moment, letting Dream’s words sink in. He uncrossed his arms and unceremoniously shoved both hands into his pockets. 

“Dream, you seriously cannot be having that good a time either if you’re hanging out alone with me. Not to mention I literally ruined your shoes by spilling god knows what all over them.”

Dream was quiet for a moment, he seemed to be doing that often before speaking. 

“But I have you, and that's what makes the party enjoyable.” Dream smiled and started to laugh before continuing. “If I’m still having fun after having your drink spilled on my shoes, you must be having somewhat of a good time with me.”

George smiled and shook his head. “You make it better but it still might be the worst party I’ve ever been to.”

Dream copied George’s movement. “I think you’re lying. You’re secretly having a great time.”

George rolled his eyes, turning his body to be more angled toward Dream. “I’m really not.”

Once again, Dream copied George’s movements to be angles towards him. “I’m calling cap. You’re enjoying yourself so much.”

George inched closer. 

“That's not true. This party is terrible, awful even!”

Dream seemed to be a breath away now.

“You like me too much to not be having a good time.”

Both boys stilled, their breath mingling in the air. George’s eyes darted to Dream’s lips and he noticed the other do the same. The air was palpable. George felt too warm underneath his clothes. He wondered if Dream was feeling as hot as he was. George inhaled and felt Dream do the same.

“George!”

George jerked back from the closeness of Dream, feeling a fiery blush begin to cover his face. He hoped it would be unrecognizable against the dark light of the room. Dream, too, leaned away from George, his hands coming to rest in his pockets. Both boys looked towards the voice to identify who disrupted their moment.

Bad had returned from his adventure with Skeppy. He was alone now, standing in front of both George and Dream, creating a triangle within the three boys.

George smiled weakly, still reeling from his most recent interaction with Dream. 

“Hey Bad.”

Bad nodded towards George’s companion. “So I see you’ve met Dream?”   
George looked at Bad in confusion. “Uh, yeah. You know Dream?”   
Bad laughed. “George! You muffin-head! Of course I know Dream! Don’t you?”

George was extremely confused now. He looked over at Dream, who was looking down at his feet with somewhat of a smirk on his face. 

“I met Dream today, here. Like a little bit after you went off with Skeppy.”

Bad laughed once again and shook his head. 

“George! This is Dream’s house! This is his party!”

George’s mouth dropped open as he turned his head to look at Dream, then back to Bad, then back to Dream again. He gasped and his hands flew to his mouth.

“Oh my god! I literally spent half the night complaining to you about your own party!”   
Dream was laughing now, another loud one that shook his entire body.

“Stop laughing, you idiot!” George said, reaching his fist out to lightly punch Dream in the arm. “I literally insulted you so many times!”   
Dream laughed even harder as George tried to hide his face in his hands. 

George groaned loudly. “This is so embarrassing.”

Bad shuffled over and patted George’s shoulder, but George could feel his hand vibrating, revealing to him that Bad was also laughing and finding humor in George’s humiliation and misfortune. 

Dream got a hold of himself long enough to choke out “It's fine! It was really funny once I realized you had no idea who I was!”

George groaned again as Bad and Dream laughed. Their laughter slowly died down as they looked into the crowd. 

“Oh my god, what are those muffins doing?” Bad said with a hand on his face.

In the center of the crowd stood Quackity and Wilbur. Arms slung around each other's shoulders, the two seemed to be the life of the party. Both had sunglasses and beanies on. Where they got the glasses or how they could see with them on in the dark room was lost on George. The boys were swaying and singing at the top of their lungs. George couldn’t tell what words they were saying, only that it was definitely improvised in the moment. While they were hyping each other up, the rest of the people around them seemed to be confused and giving them strange looks. 

“Oh my goodness. Someone should probably stop them before they get hurt!” Bad continued. He turned to George. “I hate to say this but are you ready to leave? They really should get home and sleep this off.”

George nodded. “Yeah that's fine. Um, let me just- just give me a minute and I’ll meet you out in the car.”

Bad smiled and turned to say bye to Dream, walking off after Quackity and Wilbur.

George looked at Dream, who was looking back at him with a small smile on his face. 

“Well George,” He said, eyes sparkling in the faint light. “It was nice to meet you.”

George smiled back.

“I can’t believe you’re so nice to me after I constantly insulted you to your face and got your shoes and socks soaked with alcohol.”

Dream’s smile grew and his hand came up to grab George’s softly. “What can I say? You made up for it.”

George bit his lip before turning his head back out to the crowd. “I should probably go now, I don’t want to leave Bad alone with them for too long.”

Dream’s thumb brushed against George’s hand. “I understand. See you soon?”

George smiled. “See you soon.”

He let go of Dream’s hand and marched off into the crowd. He was only gone for a moment before he heard his name getting called.

“George! Wait!”

He stopped and turned around, seeing Dream push through the crowd to catch up to him. As he stopped in front of George, his hand came up to caress George’s cheek. Before George even noticed, Dream placed a light kiss against George’s other cheek, pulling away before George could react. Dream’s hand came down to grab at George’s, opening it up and placing a small piece of paper inside. 

“That's my number,” Dream said, breathlessly. “Don’t be a stranger.”

George nodded, face red. Dream smiled once more before turning and heading off. 

George took another moment to catch his breath, soon continuing his journey out of the house and to Bad’s car.

At the car, Bad sat in the driver’s seat with Quackity and Wilbur passed out against each other in the back seat. As George climbed into the vehicle, door shutting behind him, Wilbur stirred. 

“Hello Gogy.” Wilbur croaked out, his voice sore. “Did’ja have a good time?”

George looked down at the strip of paper clutched in his palm.

“I did,” He said, smiling. “I did.”

**Author's Note:**

> oh lordy. i havent written anything in like 2 years and ive literally never written anything related to mcyt before. anyways, drop a comment if you enjoyed bc those fr make my day. :)


End file.
